Act 8: Missing Cat
by Genine
Summary: Was it really possible that she was getting ruled by the memories of that dead girl, I thought. Or, rather, was it her own memories that guided her?
1. Act 8, Scene 1

Disclaimer: The Big O is not my idea. It actually belongs to the ingenuity of Sunrise Studios, director Kazuyoshi Katayama and designer Keiichi Sato. I'm just a hopeless girl with a boring life with nothing to do. This is basically my interpretation of how this episode would be novelized.

Act 8: Missing Cat

Scene 1

Dastun

***************

The east side with its spacious, fully-manicured lawns was the wealthiest part of the city, and those who were fortunate enough to hold sufficient funds made home here. The term fortunate was synonymous with being the few social elite of Paradigm.

The rich clung together with the rich, as if all the other social classes possessed leprosy. The old and young likewise wasted their time lingering at the numerous extravagant social gatherings, choosing to juicily gossip about who bought the most shares of stock or who even allegedly slept with whom.

Despite the appearance of the neatly latticed-windows, castle-like manors, and the plastic-molded people who seemed to smile through their teeth, life within the east side wasn't nearly as perfect.

Most chose to burgeon their wealth by participating in shady business dealings at the expense of the lower class's suffering. Marriage vows and family relationships were often tainted, empty, and two-facedness and alcoholism was a must.

But there was no doubt that the home that I pulled up in front of was not too shabby, per say. It would've been the perfect home in fact, without the broken glass, cops milling about, dead body, and such.

Early morning I was called out from my townhouse to head out onto the prominent east side. Apparently, there had been a murder. As I pulled up the side of the road, I could see yellow tape being hung to prevent the nosy, also sleep-deprived witnesses from being too fascinated by the lights of the sirens.

I felt the Chinese food from last night rise up to my throat. In the middle of the living room, on the yellow suede-like carpet lay the victim, an elderly white woman. It was certainly a sight that would give me nightmares. Her neck had been broken and punctured, and her face was mauled literally. Virtually unrecognizable. You could see the bone underneath the tore-up flesh. Her amazingly unharmed spectacles, which must've fallen off during the attack, lay next to what was supposed to be her head.

Cause of death, I wasn't sure. A hard beating with some sort of weapon, maybe? But then where was the rest of her face?

Regardless, it was sure to be an interesting case, with one of the worst outcomes I've witnessed.

As Officer Miller zipped up the body I adjusted my cap. I examined the remainder of the room. "The DB was the owner of the mansion."

"Yes, sir. Jessica Wallace, age 52. She was a jeweler. She was one the wealthiest people on East Town," said young and eager Officer Wallace as he ran up next to me, holding the clipboard.

I didn't even need him to explain the latter part of his sentence

"Any family?" I asked as we sauntered into her nicely-furnished bedroom which had a nice pink floor.

"No, sir."

I heard a crunching noise. I looked down. She was a jeweler, hey? I saw a diamond, ruby, and emerald near my foot. Such things were priceless and rare today. Theft was out of the question, obviously; even the beckoning large safe in the corner remained perfectly untouched.

"I see. So I guess the only friend that she felt she had were these rocks," I said, kicking a string of loose pearls on a necklace so that the round opalescent objects dispersed. No doubt some of the cops would have their Christmas early.

"Anything else?" I asked.

Wallace looked down on his clipboard. "Well, she had a dog. Records say she had a golden retriever."

I pushed Wallace aside to take a closer look at the top of the fireplace, which was littered with photo frames. Most of them were her throughout the years, and there was one of which I assume was her long gone parents standing together with an unfamiliar bay and green statue in the background. And one was, of course, the dog lover picture. A privilege few had the opportunity to take. Miss Jessica, a woman without a neckline, was sitting on a couch, next to her loyal dog that was sitting on the floor and pretty much just as tall as she was.

"I bet that dog of hers was worth the same amount as our annual budget," I said, examining the picture. Trying to find any similarity between her then-healthy body and the fresh daunting memory of the corpse.

"Major, sir!" yelled another officer. I turned around, still holding the picture frame. "We've found something on the roof!"

I followed the officer up the stairs. And I must say the roof was gorgeous. Kind of reminded me of the Negotiator's roof-- 'cept instead this one had a nice pool.

It was still dark out. Some cops had already hauled in lamplights from the trunk and had already focused the beams on the corpse of the floating dog.

Our culprit, perhaps, in an unfortunate yet delightfully convenient drowning incident?

"Good work gentleman," I applauded above the soft sound of gurgling water.

Under close scrutiny, though, I realized that body didn't match the appearance of Scruffy the family friend. This floating corpse looked totally inhuman, totally un-animal, totally out-of-this-world. I sensed foul play. This thing was larger than any dog could be, larger than your average tall man. I couldn't even describe it. It just looked-- bloated beyond normalcy. From what I could see, there was what looked like two legs sticking out in a disturbing fashion out of its body. And, I swear, somewhere in there I saw horns.

Two officers flipped a broom and started to poke and prod it with the handle. It was a scene that appeared alien among a hardcore crime scene investigation. They resembled little kids on the beach who, in morbid fascination, never saw a jellyfish.

"What in the world?"

The grinning officers prodded too hard and the body submerged itself, bubbling as it disappeared underneath the monster-green water.


	2. Act 8, Scene 2

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Scene 2

Dorothy

It was 6:00 PM in the evening. I was on another of those errands Norman always gives me. He told me to get some jelly for breakfast the next day, but I know that there was plenty in the refrigerator. But I do actually like walks.

It was raining outside, so I held the black umbrella. It was thundering. For some reason, I am not afraid of thunder. It is a very pleasant thing, walking in the rain. But kind of lonely, if I was human. The only conversation I hear during such walks are the little whispering drips and their various sounds they make as they splish splash on my pseudo-skin, play drums on the trashcans, splurge out of the gutters.

Very little humans are outside during the rain. It is like they are afraid of it. They run into their cars and buildings in fear of it. But it is just water from the sky. I do not see why humans do not like it; they should as I see it worship it. It waters their plants, washes off old body oils, cleans their infested streets, and comprises a high percentage of their physical matter. Without it, they are doomed. Why do they take it for granted?

I am one block away from Roger's mansion. But I do not want to go back just yet. There was still one hour before Roger would get home.

A new word, a new memory entered my mind. Exploration. Something the other Dorothy, the real Dorothy enjoyed. To my right I was approaching an alley. I was drawn right to it, as if I was not in control of my own actions. I turned to face it. It was long, and ended until who knows where. It was dark and littered and had loads of trashcans-- the definition of alley. What some humans call mysterious and dangerous.

I walked towards its interior. The wind and rain was picking up. I could see plumes of dust flying. My footsteps echoed through the narrow corridor.

I heard a noise, something like a thud. I like noises. I decided to investigate. That's what the real Dorothy would've done.

I knelt downwards. The noise came from behind this small piece of cardboard. I stared at it, waiting to see if something interesting would manifest itself.

In fact, something was shuffling behind the cardboard. Maybe it was a rat, something not that interesting at all. Rats and other pests were very common in Paradigm; just like their fellow mammal, the human, they had easily adapted, too, after the tragedy forty years ago.

But what emerged was not a rodent, but in fact something that historically helped rid the humans of them. A cat. It was a grey, furry, and very small mammal that had a collar around its neck and sharp claws. It looked at me with the queerest expression on its face, cocking its head in curiosity. It must've not seen a human in a very long time. It was probably just as surprised to see as I was surprised to see him.

"Awowwww?" the cat purred as its deep slit eyes blinked. Its eccentric long tuft of a tail moved like a slithering snake.

The cat emitted again the same noise which my android 'ears' found very strangely pleasant. In shock I realized the magnitude of what just happened. There was a sudden burst of wind as the umbrella was lifted from my hands, rising above the narrow alley.


	3. Act 8, Scene 3

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Scene 3

Roger

*******************

"Dorothy! R. Dorothy Wayneright!" I yelled in disbelief.

I turned around to face Norman who was fixing a lamplight.

"Norman. Where is she?"

"I don't know. What has she done, sir?"

I sighed, closing my eyes for a couple of seconds, and lifted a hand. "Norman. I thought I had explained myself and made it clear to her. If she's going to stay here and live in this house, she has to follow the rules!"

"Quite right, sir," he said from atop the chair, adjusting his black suit. "All clothes must be black, rule number--"

"That's just a basic rule," I yelled. "The most important rule of all is that under no circumstances must anyone touch my desk."

"Has it been touched, sir?"

"She did more than touch it!" I said as Norman followed me to my desk. We assessed the damage.

"Oh, dear," he said, blinking at the site of what was ruined. Papers were strewn all over the floor, ripped in half, hourglasses shattered, my precious hourglasses. Sand everywhere.

"I'm gone for just a little while and look what happens."

I knelt down sadly, picking up a bit of wood. "Ugh. This is what remains of my favorite hourglass. My beautiful sand... This was all just a work of art!"

"And this is Dorothy's doing?" I thought out loud. I rummaged through the remains of my beloved collection.

"But then who else could it be?" I demanded. I paused, then shifted my head abruptly towards my servant. "Unless you!"

Norman waved a hand in defense. "Don't be absurd, sir. Heaven forbid it, I would never. Could it be... that Perro's responsible?"

Perro?

"Where's Dorothy? And who's Perro?"

"Perro is her new pet, Roger sir. A cat. She found him outside and decided to take care of him. Oh, but Dorothy usually cleans up after him. I see that she, er, forgot one of these instances. If you want to speak to her, I believe she is at the rooftop."

I made my way to the last floor and went up to the penthouse. I found Dorothy sitting on one of those concrete benches, a soft furry cat gently breathing in her lap. I sighed.

"Dorothy. Norman told me you had a cat. You can't keep it. Why? Because it violated one of my rules," I said as I walked up to her. Her back was faced to me.

"You mean if Perro's color was black instead of grey you'd let him stay here," she said in her queer monotone android voice.

"I'm sorry, Dorothy, but that's not the problem," I defended.

"So, it's simply the matter of your affections being put to the test," she said. Oh, how she infuriated me.

"Did you say affections? An android talking about affections? This is ridiculous," I exclaimed.

Dorothy was silent. She usually gave me eye contact but I knew that when she was very serious about something she tended to have her own space. I knew something was up.

I cleared my throat, lifting my hand to my mouth. "Umph. Sorry. I was a little out of line there," I muttered, leaning on a white Roman-style column. Now my back was faced to her. If that's how she wanted it.

"Don't worry about it."

"Alright then."

"I felt it. Clear as day."

Huh?

"He needed and wanted someone to rescue him," she clarified.

"Rescue?"

"Oh, I see," I said, smiling. I shifted to the other side of the Roman column to face her. "How did you know he needed to be rescued-- and from what? Did you just convince yourself that was the case?"

"He had been abandoned and left in the rain."

I closed my eyes briefly. "No, that can't be right. You weren't the one who put the collar on him, didn't you?"

"Cats are rare creatures. In one sense you could say they're worth more than you and I. I doubt someone would abandon one. The best thing you should do is find its owner, because when you get too attached--"

Dorothy's head jerked towards me before I could finish my sentence. "When that happens you'll negotiate."

I blinked as she stood up directly to face me. "Huh?"

"Negotiate with the owners. It fits in your job description. Mr. Negotiator," Dorothy said before running off inside the penthouse, still cradling her cat.

"Uh-- uh, hey!" I yelled in surprise, turning and reaching out a hand. But she had been too quick and was already inside. I shook my head and proceeded to walk into the penthouse.

An hour later, sure enough, Dorothy was at her piano. Playing a song, a slow somewhat melancholic song. I've heard her play it so often. It was quite beautiful.

I climbed up the stairs, mesmerized. I actually paused before taking the last three steps to the next floor. I didn't want her to spot me. Usually she concluded her songs whenever I appeared, scrutinize my hair or wrinkled suit, and then would say some random insult to me.

She actually looked like she had a smile on her face. And her cat was on top of the piano meowing and trying to reach the keys and shifting fingers below it. Dorothy almost looked like a real life actual girl. She was actually putting 'emotion' into her playing this doubt. What was her inspiration? I felt that it was the cat, no doubt.

And then she must've sense my presence because she stopped shifting along with the music and became stiff, letting only her quick-moving fingers do all the work. I chuckled quietly.

For the next couple of days, I witnessed a change in Dorothy, a change for the better. She now had a stride in her step because she had a true loyal companion that followed and looked up to her. I wondered if the original Dorothy-- that is, the human Dorothy-- loved having a pet as well. Dorothy's attitude was much lighter, she insulted me less, and it wasn't every morning that she offered me the 'usual' wake-up call. I actually came to appreciate the effects that cat caused in the android.

I got the feeling that Dorothy had grown much more expressive in just a short period of time yet she still had the same dour look on her face. Contact with a kitten awakened memories apparently of the girl she was modeled after. It was definitely a sound assumption. But, was that the truth?

During one early lunch, I pondered all these things. I was wiping my mouth with a napkin when Norman gave me some warm milk in a tea cup. Instead of putting up the silver carafe in the fridge, Norman knelt down to pour some for the kitten in a nice blue ceramic bowl-- a bowl that I recognized which merely used to hold little pebbles for decoration in the living room. I smiled to myself. I guess it wasn't too bad having another someone in the house. Norman sure did seem to enjoy caring for the kitten-- it was a nice change compared to the typical routine of the home.

Several minutes after that Dorothy went up to the penthouse, perhaps to sit on the concrete gray steps, her favorite spot. The kitten followed suit like a loyal obedient child. I decided to follow, too, but only out of curiosity.

The strong wind was thick and oppressive that day, and carried the scent of a hard rain soon to come. Paradigm's skies were similarly heavy, a blanket of industrial pollution and rumbling thunderclouds. Dorothy's hair skirt and hair flailed in the wind as she stood at the edge of the building. Her lips moved; she said to the kitten in her seemingly emotionless manner, "Isn't it a beautiful perfect day?" The cat's mouth opened, meowing in return.

"I'm so glad I rescued you because I've come to like you so much. You will never be alone again, and neither I or anyone else will ever hurt you," Dorothy vowed. She then lowered to the kitten, beckoning it to come in her arms.

"I promise."

Was it really possible that she was getting ruled by the memories of that dead girl, I thought. Or, rather, was it her own memories that guided her?

She stepped down from the precipice, catching the leaping kitten. The kitten kissed her lips. Whatever the reason, this change in her was for the best. That ought to be enough.

***

At 1 PM Norman told Dorothy to fetch something at the store. Dorothy obeyed without a word, petting her kitten and leaving it behind. I myself went to the study room, wanting to make some new hourglasses.

I think everybody should make hourglasses; it is very relaxing. You can't do it quickly; you have to do it softly and gently with much premeditated thought. And you can't use any ordinary sand, either. It has to be nice the milled kind, not hard and stubborn. Along my desk were several tools; a sifter, wax paper, beaker, balance beam, and several weights of difference sizes. I already had sifted the hard sand and was now left with fine grains that were on the wax paper-covered balance beam. The scale shifted due to the masses of the sand and the weights. I was lowering my head to see even with the scale when Norman approached me from behind.

"Master Roger?"

"Hmm?" I muttered half-heartedly.

"You have a couple of visitors, sir."

"Sorry. I'm busy right now."

"It's Mr. and Mrs. Ferry who are proud owners of Perro."

Perro, say? I paused and sat back up straight, weighing in the situation.

I discontinued what I was doing and moved to the other floor where the two people were waiting. Mrs. Ferry was your average woman in her early 30s while her husband looked at least ten years older than her. I sat on a couch opposite them.

"Why, hello," I said. "Thank you for coming. My name is Roger Smith, as you all well know. How are you?"

Norman brought in cups of coffee for our visitors. I humbly declined Norman's offering of a pouring for myself.

"I know this sounds strange for us to come to a Negotiator as yourself, but I know nothing's too big for you. We want you to find our beloved pet who has gone missing a week ago," said Mrs. Ferry. She was a mysterious strange woman who didn't appear to show any emotion at all.

"Beloved pet?" I said.

"It's a cat. His name is Roy. He's one year old. He's small and grey. And was wearing a green collar but the collar didn't have a name tag on it. We don't live far from where you are-- we're only two blocks away. We think you could help us out," said Mrs. Ferry.

"Ma'm. I have something to tell you that sounds too good to be true. I already know where your pet is," I said.

"Where is our Roy?" Mr. Ferry demanded.

"A friend I know saw it while she was out on a walk one day in the pouring rain. She decided to adopt it. She has bonded with it incredibly. I'd like her to keep it, in fact. It has put her in a much more delightful mood. I'm also willing to pay twice the amount you paid for that cat," I said.

"I'm sorry but it doesn't matter what you say. It would be nearly impossible for us to part with that cat," Mr. Ferry said, taking a sip of the piping hot coffee.

"In other words, you're saying it's not a question of money." I raised an eyebrow.

Mr. Ferry put the coffee down on the table. "Yes, that's correct."

I leaned forward, setting my elbows on my knees. "My friend is a very affectionate girl. She would never do anything to harm it. I assure you, he's in great hands."

Mr. Ferry grunted, slamming the cup onto the table. A few stray droplets of liquid spilled onto my pant leg.

"Mr. Smith!" Mrs. Ferry broke her silence finally, sitting straight back up.

"Yes?"

"Let's assume that it was a _child_ and it was you who lost him. Would you really be still so reticent in handing him over to us whether we were strangers or not?"


	4. Act 8, Scene 4

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Scene 4

Roger

*******************

I agreed to let them have Perro. They had it first, anyways. I had a feeling that Mrs. Ferry really loved her cat-- because it was her _only_ child. I walked up the penthouse solemnly as the visitors followed me. I only took a few steps out onto the roof. Under the usual dark grey sky was Dorothy sitting at the corner of the precipice, her legs dangling towards the street below, her arms holding Perro. She was peacefully humming a mysterious tune. It was a sweet sight that I'd gotten so quickly used to.

"Dorothy!" I simply yelled, unsure on how to break news.

Dorothy was quiet. She stopped humming. "I wonder... whose song this belongs to. It is natural for me to hum the tune," she said. I swear her voice sounded so childlike.

I regretted it.

"Dorothy?" I sighed. "The basic rule of negotiating is to listen to and respect the other person's feelings. That is, what I'm trying to say is that... in this case--"

"It's interesting. I didn't know him for very long at all. But I'm glad I met him," she said quickly as she petted the furry sleeping cat. I wondered if she even heard me.

"Dorothy. If it's alright with you. I think at least you should return him personally," I said as she slipped off the precipice and emotionlessly started walking toward us.

All of a sudden, the wind had lifted up. Dorothy's hair and skirt flailed wildly, and I heard three gasps from behind as Norman and the visitors heard the unexpected rumble of a powerfully vibrating engine. The ship arrived so fast I almost didn't have enough time to react. From behind Dorothy, behind the penthouse, rose a strange helicopter. Its nose was facing left as it seemed to effortlessly levitate meters above the precipice. Meters above the android. Dear God, no.

Dorothy turned around calmly just as the ship rose high enough in the air for its nose to face toward us.

"Dorothy!" I yelled, running towards her with arm outstretched. Why didn't she move?

"I'll get the pistol, Roger," Norman shouted.

And then I saw it. It moved so quickly I couldn't even evade. My humungous white tablecloth flew in the ship's favor like a haunting ghost, covering me and blocking my sight of the android. I struggled to shake it off; the wind just kept pushing it back in my face. I heard the cat hiss. I heard the ship hum and the clanking of machinery, indicating a whole new wave of events. The sound of the ship became louder as it passed over me. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I managed to shake the tablecloth off by turning around with the direction of the wind. I saw Dorothy running towards the penthouse.

"Dorothy!"

I saw a fearful metallic tentacle outstretching from the vehicle with a huge clamp on its end. It grabbed Dorothy by the waist and hoisted her and the kitten up in the air. No! I followed the tentacle's movements and prepared myself enough to leap into the air to try to catch it. I barely grabbed myself into the middle of its arm. Dorothy was a couple of meters away from me on the end. The ship rose higher and higher. I tried to swing my weight to get my legs onto it but I failed. My body dangled dangerously over the street. The propellers beneath the bright glowing thrusters gyrated deafeningly.

I was so preoccupied with getting a safe position on the arm when I realized I was heading in the wrong direction. The arm slammed into the Roman column. The force caused me to let go off of the arm. I plummeted towards the rooftop. Concrete flew everywhere as the column shattered. I headed towards the ground fast. I positioned myself as if I was doing a handstand, stretching my palms toward the ground. My hands throbbed on impact. I quickly sprang myself on my feet in a kneeling position and made my arms act as a lever balancing me on the ground, breaking my fall. I did not lose sight of the ship, which realigned itself and activated its turrets. I dashed towards the precipice in a swift movement, missing the poorly aimed yet frightening bullets. I had become its new target. I stood at the building's edge, the street below me. I jumped.

The heavy turrets temporarily slid out of sight as the ship soared off in a new direction. I hung above the avenue with one arm anchored to the precipice, angrily watching Dorothy's prison in the claw. I proceeded to lift myself back up to the rooftop. The turrets had moved on towards the couple, who were standing still for some reason. I couldn't see Norman.

"Oh, no!" I yelled stormily. Why didn't they run? I knew what was going to happen. But I couldn't do anything, lest I'd risk my own life as witness to the crime. I was too far from the couple. My heart broke in half as I stood merely by, unseen by the ship, and regretting my decision and in my mind searching for every possible or missed way to prevent the unfolding scene from happening. What could I do?

Too late. Bullets ripped through Mr. Ferry's chest. The force of the ammunition compelled him backwards throughout his screams. He fell with his arm at first stiffly outstretched but it became inevitable as his muscles relaxed.

"Robert!" Mrs. Ferry screamed as she watched weakly, her arms cradling the side of her head.

She turned around to see the ship begin to loom above her. She stepped several feet backwards in trepidation, then stopped because her foot had bumped into her husbands hand. She looked at her husband sadly.

"Please stand back, ma'm. Please leave this up to me," Norman said in his usual demeanor as he sprang from the penthouse interior, holding a machine gun. He gently cast her off aside.

He fired many rounds, his body jerking back from the force. Sparks flew from the ship's frontal area and the pilot had no choice but to change direction. Norman continued his precise aim.

It was a clever move on the pilot's part to bring the tentacle out in view again. Dorothy watched the movements happening on the rooftop solemnly. Norman lowered the machine gun, left with no choice. The last of the fired shells rolled on the floor. The ship lifted up again, moving to a different angle. Everyone watched the ship, unsure of its move. Then in a sudden movement, the tentacle jerked Dorothy off to the side, revealing its deadly weapon once more. Bullets burst through the concrete floor in a solid line, splitting Norman away from Mrs. Ferry. The bullets focused on destruction of the penthouse. I had made my way to the side of Mrs. Ferry. I grabbed her by the shoulder firmly, keeping my eye on the ship. Mrs. Ferry screamed, covering her head in apprehension. I directed her off to a safer side of the building. We then broke into a run, my back sheltering her from any flying debris. A stream of bullets whizzed less than a feet behind us, causing a concrete wall to shatter down. I had no choice but to fall on the ground for temporary cover, bringing Mrs. Ferry alongside with me. Shards of glass flew. Mrs. Ferry proceeded to get up. I let her at first, making sure to not let go of her hand. But then somehow she let loose from my grasp, walking surely towards the ship.

"What are you doing!" I yelled. She was crazy. I was torn between protecting my client and respecting their feelings.

"Roy!" she screamed. "Roy!"

"Eugene! Please," she pleaded, holding her hands up.

Eugene?

"Eugene. Give me back my baby," she cried.

Dorothy watched the woman with an apathetic expression. The kitten mew loudly with insistence, recognizing its previous owner.

The innocent mewing was interrupted by the ear-splitting sound of bullets hissing through the smoldering air. Mrs. Ferry's body recoiled, then jerked as if she was having a seizure. Her arms lifted up towards the air and then the next minute lowered. She screamed. Her muscles loosened and she dropped on her knees. She continued to stare at the ship, which was retreating now-- but for the last time. It soared off into the distance with the android and Perro. Then she fell backwards. Stunned, I ran over to her, catching her fall. Norman rushed to my side. Her eyes were wide open, still struggling to focus on the departing ship. I lifted her back. "Roy," she whispered helplessly like a young child, struggling to let words. She lifted her palm to the sky, a sky empty except for the dark hanging clouds. "Roy... My little boy." Arterial blood was dripping down her arm. She whimpered. "My little... boy." And then her arm became limp.

I struggled to assess the complete day's outcome, quivering in shock. I still held her body, which was quickly becoming cold as ice in the lapping merciless wind. I was strongly feeling numerous emotions at once, and I promised myself right then and there to attain justice for the Ferrys.

"How unfortunate," Norman murmured as we both gathered the bodies and situated them next together. I grabbed Mr. and Mrs. Ferry's hands and clasped them together, joining them in death as they were joined in life. Such was the traditional meaning of marriage.

I knelt above them, closing my eyes silently in respect for the dead. I didn't know any prayers-- such things were lost forty years ago-- but I repeated this quote I'd heard at one point in my mind:

_Never had there been a story of more woe, _

_Than of Juliet and his her Romeo._

I had no idea where the quote was from and whether the words were retained in its original form, but it seemed like a pretty solemn thing to say. And it gave me the psychological ending I needed.

"Norman..." my voice quaked.

"I understand sir. Please leave everything to me."

I got up and slipped on my shades after wiping some moisture from my eyes. I turned my body to the northern direction where the ship had disappeared to.

"I have to go now. And find Dorothy."


	5. Act 8, Scene 5

Disclaimer: Big O is the property of Sunrise Studios. I do not claim the ingenuity of the anime's awesomeness.

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Scene 5  
Angel  
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I had been waiting for some time a block away. I had heard the gunshots, the screams, the chortle of the ship as expected.

And now I heard the rise of the garage and the screeching of tires following the unmistaken rev of his engine. He bolted a corner, smashing up a few flimsy metal trash cans on the way.

Bingo.

I checked the small monitor on my motorcycle and analyzed the blinking dot on the screen. I revved up my own engine, headed onto the road, and followed the Griffon, making sure to maintain my distance several car lengths away.

*************

Roger

*********

That night I sped my way to the Speak Easy, unleashing my emotions throughout my reckless drive. I burst through the door of the two-star bar and accidentally slammed it shut. The wall quaked with my force. All the bloodshot-eyed people inside turned and looked upon my entrance. Then they quickly returned to their activity-- not only was I a regular, but a mostly normal-looking human being that just was a tad bit wealthier than them, a human being similarly upset with the harsh reality of life in Paradigm.

I handed the bartender some 20s and in exchange he handed me the exclusive and a shot glass. I sauntered to the back of the room. Sure enough, the Jew was there, nosing himself in a newspaper at a booth. I didn't sit in his same booth but I proceeded to take the one next to him. I avoided any eye contact.

"So, what's with the mood?" he asked slyly.

"I'm in a hurry. So let's avoid the chitchat," I demanded, slapping additional 20s onto the table. He covered the money with the Opinions page.

"I'd like to know about someone named Eugene," I said, uncorking my drink.

"Roger. Are you familiar with the incident that occurred over in East Town?"

The same honky tonk music that played every time I happened to enter the Speak Easy played through the audio system. The sound of it was generally laid-back and pleasant, but its sheer repetition furthermore irritated me. In the corner of the Speak Easy lay one billiards table. A large man who could've been a hired thug muscle by night walked up to the billiards, eyeing the brown old cue closely.

"Yeah," I muttered between my teeth as I poured myself a shot.

"Rumor has it that a woman was done it by her dog."

"Her dog?" I said, raising an eyebrow as I took the shot down.

"Apparently, Eugene was behind it all. He's the worst kind of man to negotiate with. Eugene Grant. He's known as an alchemist."

"An alchemist?"

"He was a scientist who started researching artificial proteins. And what I've heard is that about these discoveries-- even Paradigm is afraid of them now."

"So what kind of memories did he get his hands on?"

"Life itself. If I were you, I'd watch my back."

The large man picked up the cue, examined it and looked displeasured. The middle of the cue was frayed and worn out. He frowned while grunting. He noticed me looking at him and leered threateningly, grabbing the cue by both ends and snapping it in half.

"Oh, there won't be any negotiating on this job," I declared as I walked towards the door of the Speak Easy, leaving the Big Ear and the mostly full wine bottle behind. From my peripheral vision, I saw the large man look at me expectedly, ready for a fight. I ignored the punk and left the bar, making sure to rattle the door behind me.


	6. Act 8, Scene 6

Disclaimer: Big O solely belongs to Sunrise Studios.

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Scene 6

Dorothy

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I was in some metallic prison spaced just enough for limited movement. The room was illuminated in an angry bright red. The only thing that I could do was wait so I continued to search for the face of my captor should he choose to appear again within the small peeping hole above me. I heard the moans and cries of Perro in the near distance.

"Perro is crying," I said from the bottom of the cone-shaped chamber.

"Well, you're certainly a well-made doll, aren't ya?" said the man as he peered into the hole.

He had a white lab coat and long, flowing hair. And an evil characteristic grin. "But you're a big waste of everyone's time, if you ask me," he laughed. He coughed afterwards, the chortle a little harsh on his throat.

"Come, Dorothy," he said. "I want you to see something."

I heard the humming of machinery as the floor beneath me started to rise up. I was elevated to the top of the cone. My captor was there to greet me, along with two grey-uniformed bodyguards armed with rifles.

The chamber was very dark as we made the journey towards a new room. The only illumination seemed to be the light that wafted from the cone-shaped prisons that dotted around us like craters. Strange animal-like sounds could be heard every time we passed by a different crater.

"Magnificent. Those voices cleanse the soul!" the captor exclaimed happily. The silent guards and I following him watched as he lifted his hands up towards the sky.

The new room we entered was similarly extraordinary. It was round-shaped, vast, and had a dome ceiling. Whereas the other rooms were dark, this one was bright white. Our walkway suddenly became very narrow-- only a couple of feet between my legs and the deep pool of water below.

"Everything lost will have a chance to be reborn here!" he said as we continued our tour. "Reborn by the hands of Eugene Grant! Who was blessed with memories of its old creator!"

The middle-aged man with unusual amounts of energy whirled around and leered his face at me so as I could see every detail of his hideousness. His long black hair appeared very oily and unwashed; he resembled a snake, in fact. He had thin eyebrows, a pointy noise, and a strange scar on his left side that was two inches wide and appeared to be three contiguous hexagon shapes. He had a long jaw, baggy eyes, and his teeth were yellow.

"I am not interested," I said. I remembered what Norman told me to say whenever a telemarketer decided to call.

Eugene blinked in surprise, then shuddered it off. He gave an awkward laugh.

"Well, after all, it is an android," he exclaimed. "But when you see this, you'll have a change of heart, I assure you--"

We entered another round room. It was dark again this time, and had the similar reddish glow that I experienced during the first chamber. Whatever sparse illumination there was came from tall strange cross figures that surrounded us on the wall.

He flipped a switch as he stepped on a platform. The guards and I stood still in observation. The room hummed as electricity surged, causing giant lamps to reveal through their bright white light strange unfamiliar shadows trapped in separate glass encasings. It was a fantastic show in which the animals trapped in the middle of the room were lighted first, with the light then spreading outwards.

"Once you've witnessed the creatures I've created."


	7. Act 8, Scene 7

Disclaimer: The Big O anime belongs to Sunrise Studios.

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Scene 7  
Roger

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I found myself on the northern side of town after following the directions the Big Ear had given. This part I was in had long been relatively unoccupied for miles. I passed by hills of ruined, collapsed skyscrapers that looked as if some giant decided to make mere sandcastles of human civilization. I amongst the chaos had easily spotted a suspicious make-shift road free of debris in which I could easily maneuver the Griffon. I passed a rudely painted 'DO NOT ENTER: PRIVATE PROPERTY' sign. Eugene's place then easily manifested itself throughout the ruin-- a very majestic and royal-looking building, dilapidated and worn with the effects of forty years. Perfect for his mysterious scientific intentions.

Even parking was difficult. Somehow I managed to find a relatively safe spot for the Gargoyle. Still with my shades on, I then emerged out of the door and locked the vehicle. I had arrived at my destination.

I assumed it must've been some sort of up-and-high museum judging from its Roman columns, and the type of buildings and indicative signs near the area. The building's strange artful engravings, vast acreage surrounding it, and tall grandeur seemed to echo the long-lost tale of the institution's prideful founding. Its large empty door frame, likewise to a communicative spirit's large wailing mouth, seemed to beckon me in. Eugene must've counted on the fact that the crowded hazardous surroundings would scare off unwanted trespassers.

Would.

With lots of effort I proceeded my way towards the building, careful of stepping on the shards of glass and loose mounds of concrete which littered the landscape. Any misstep and I'd get injured.

I heard the sudden sound of a large rock rolling downhill on a pile of debris somewhere behind me. I had the inexplicable feeling in my gut that I was being followed. I whirled around.

"You should at least thank me for showing you the way here, Miss," I said testily in annoyance, scanning the piles for any sign of the blonde.

"Angel would be just fine!" I heard a woman's voice scowl. I shifted sideways to see the troublemaker come out from behind a loose mountainous pile of rocks, struggling to stand proudly in her pink boots.

Pebbles and dust from the pile rolled to the front of my shoe.


	8. Act 8, Scene 8

Act 8, Scene 8 of Missing Cat

Disclaimer: Big O is the sole property of Sunrise studios.

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Scene 8

Dorothy

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I gazed around at the strange aquatic creatures surrounding me. I felt pity towards them; they were trapped in a bubbling yellowish fluid encased with inch-thick glass and couldn't really move about at all, forced to live a dull and dreary, environmentally-controlled existence. And they didn't look too happy. All animals, like humans land or sea, needed fresh air and food, plenty of room to romp about, and companionship or love. Eugene's scientifically experimental creatures screamed and howled in sorrow, in anger, loneliness, confusion, clawing at the glass, swimming back and forth restlessly, for they did not ask to be born this way, anomalous. Created solely for the selfish purposes of a prideful creator, not by the hands of nature but of man in laboratory.

Most of these animals looked completely alien, while others somewhat resembled mostly one real naturally-occurring creature or a cross of two. The nightmarish thing next to me loosely exhibited similarities to that of a dog with its floppy hanging ears, big pink tongue, head shape, and scruffy fur. What was not canine was its strange lobster-like eyes, alien cries, and humongous dangerous-looking teeth. It gave the most fearsome roar like a lion.

Despite the hellishness of these creatures, there was something-- _something_ that was so familiar about them.

"So tell me, what do you think of my works of art, my little well-constructed doll," Eugene said as he plopped into a swivel chair that was welded onto the dark grey platform. "Good workmanship, wouldn't you say? And don't even begin to think in that robotic brain of yours that I'm satisfied with creatures like these. These are just... trash. Life forms such as dog or cats are extremely rare, and with so few surviving in this world they're now on their way to extinction. So now I began to create, no--- I didn't simply begin to. I am the creator of the new world! I am!"

Here he stood up and walked over in front of the main red cross, eyes glazing with awe. "I have become creator of the new world. I will create, and I will carry responsibilities as that creator!"

I began to realize what that _something _was, why these creatures were just so familiar and pitiful, why their plight wrecked my android conscience so.

"Humans. All of these creatures are human, aren't they?" I stated.


	9. Act 8, Scene 9

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Scene 9

Angel

*************

"Angel would be just fine!" I scowled in annoyance. Oh, well.

I picked my way down to Roger's side in a grudge, holding my arms out for balance as I slid down a pile of loose smooth gravel. I leaped off, brushing the dust off of my suit. At least I didn't have to worry about being seen anymore.

I remembered the last time I had seen that evil son of a bitch. It was not too long ago. In fact, it was just last week that I had watched him bitterly destroy the memories that had risen from underground and felt an unexpected wellspring of emotion rise down on me:

_As I leaned against a building, watching the downfall of the Megadeus-- and memories which could potentially enlighten Paradigm City-- my gratitude towards my savior turned into hatred._

_I felt the onslaught of tears coming, their sting in my eyes that were already irritated from the salt water, but I fought them back. But I so wanted to cry from the spilt milk. He didn't understand. He didn't understand that there was good to memories. I wasn't exploiting them, I was helping people. People who wanted to know where they came from and what the hell happened so they could just move on with their lives. They just wanted their identities. And for someone to say that they have the power to take away their happiness, just like that?_

_Roger was the one that was greedy._

"_I hate you, Roger. You don't understand what it's like to be me," I spat._

A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the memories associated with the last failed mission-- the frog-like corpse that had clung to my leg, the freezing cold rushing water that numbed the soul.

Yes. I hated Roger. And, yet, here I was next to the Negotiator for the second or third time, as if we were partners on the same mission, when in fact our objectives completely contradicted each other.

But, no. I wouldn't lose the precious memories this time. I'll keep my eye on Roger. I'll make a move before he ever does.

"Why do you always have to show up?" Roger muttered as he gaited immediately towards the museum. He grumbled, his eyes averting away from me in disgust.

I returned the favor coldly as I said, "Sometimes I think the same thing."

Sure. Roger was handsome with his masculine face, defined cheekbones, and chiseled jaw, but this guy was a pain in the ass.

My heeled boots wobbled against the uneven surface of the littered ground. I tried to make sure I wouldn't step on anything dangerous and slip. Didn't want to fall down and humiliate myself in front of my enemy and look like even more of a burden to him-- which I knew I had inevitably been, anyways. Well, Roger seemed to have a way better time on his trip compared to me. He was constantly keeping his eyes directly on the encroaching door, not once looking down to see if he would step on a popped open manhole. His journey amongst the unleveled rubble seemed effortless as if an easy path magically emerged itself in reaction to his strong presence. Well, everything anyways always looked so easy for him. I hated people like that.

We entered through the doorway inside a museum that smelled like its age. Roger and I became hushed, and we moved slowly throughout the space. Through some inexplicable or supernatural power, we were propagated to become silent in respect to the institution. My boots clacked against the cold marble. The vast room was scarily dark and I was actually thankful I was not alone. Roger and I took the liberties of flipping on our flashlights. The beam illuminated through particles of flowing dust, revealing various booths empty of the plain-voiced cashiers must've that took the money of spectacled college students years ago. Our waists merely clicked through the silver broken counter gates unhindered. Upon our free admission we gazed in awe at the sights around us. Most specially, to our front was the erected skeletal remains of some sort of animal that actually must've walked the earth years and years before. We stopped and stared, as if we more like tourists than trespassers. The intimidating skeletal system of this animal was very tall, approximately more than twenty feet from top to bottom, with massive dangerous-looking tusks. Obviously a carnivore.

There was a panel that said the words 'WOOLY MAMMOTH' but underneath it the engraved rest, possibly an insightful description of its extinct lifestyle, was illegible due to a thick film of dirt and old fallen cobwebs. From the dark corners of my imagination came an eerie outstretched wail. On a whim, I imagined the deep wiry fur and emotionless black beady eyes which could've belonged to the predator, and then its giant silver tusks, sharp as a knife, wrecking havoc as it crushed down mercilessly the buildings of Paradigm. And, of course, Roger's Megadeus coming up to challenge it.

Who knew? Maybe Eugene was having a grand old blast creating a wooly mammoth in his crazy lab right now. Paradigm Corp. would certainly have a use for them. It wouldn't be the first time.

"The rebirth of new or rare animals through genetic manipulations," I wondered quietly. "Paradigm expected a huge profit from all those memories."

Above us from the ceiling hung amazing realistic-looking recreations of great animals whose fake beady eyes glinted eerily against our flashlights. A pterodactyl was soaring overhead while a couple of meters away next to it a saber-tooth tiger preyed on an invisible target.

"Double crossed you and it got out of control," Roger muttered, raising his eyebrow in the dark.

Our footsteps stopped. We had gone as far as the room would let us horizontally. Situated before us was a brown cracked wall, marking the end of the first floor. A collapsing decorative banner featured a downwards-pointing arrow and read 'BASEMENT FEATURE EXHIBIT: SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTE ON BEHALF OF OUR 100th ANNIVERSAY PRESENTS 'THE FUTURE!''

"Right. Turned his research group into a private army. Recklessly carried on new experiments on people and then he sold a defective sample knowing it would become brutal to a billionaire business partner…" my voice trailed.

Below us was the basement floor of the museum, where additional spectacles and exhibits were left to behold. But what remained of the grand escalator from forty years ago was lying on the floor in smithereens. Looked like a fifty foot drop down.

I met Roger's eyes directly. "You know the results."


	10. Act 8, Scene 10

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Scene10

Dorothy

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"Don't you understand? It couldn't be helped. I needed more capital to create a more perfect product," said the scientist as he turned away from me to observe one of his desperately crying creations. He idly tapped his hands on the glass which separated him from the poor hellish creature.

"Where's Perro?"

The evil man cocked his head towards me.

"Where's my kitty? Oh, give me back my baby!" he said mockingly, whirling around and clasping his hands in a dramatic fashion. His eyes flashed.

"Poor old Louise. All she could do was beg. They tried with all their might to back out of this illustrious research. I felt they had to be punished due to their self-serving and foolish behavior," he said as he came closer to me. I could feel and smell the stench of his breath upon my face. He clasped his hand on my shoulder. "So I took their precious and invaluable little Roy. He was a lovely creature with his little crystal blue eyes. He made a perfect research specimen."

He laughed.

Like so many others in the very room, the red creature banged its head on the glass relentlessly, each heart-splitting thud followed by its piercing cries.


	11. Act 8, Scene 11

Scene 11  
Roger

"Do you know about the Ferrys' son?" she asked as she slid down the rope in the darkness.

Usually this girl had some flirty attitude that came along with her package, but today it seemed to have almost completely vanished.

"The Ferrys' son?" I repeated from above her.

Looks like she was helping me for a change; she had given me lots of information for the sake of conversation in the gloomy atmosphere, intentional or not. And I welcomed it. Sometimes it was a bit lonely being Negotiator, doing things all by yourself.

But I knew that whatever mood she was in, she was still going to bring trouble. This girl was certainly full of surprises.

She slid off the rope impatiently several meters above the ground. She landed perfectly in a squatting position with one hand touching the ground and then immediately stood up. I took a much simpler landing, lowering myself onto the ground until my feet touched the linoleum.

She took a map from her pocket and proceeded to follow it. I eyed her curiously as she expertly navigated us through the different themed exhibitory rooms. We entered an 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' doorway and arrived in what seemed to be a predominantly brown warehouse. It was not as dark and it was a fresh sight to see light bulbs again. We flipped off our flashlights.

"Right. He was used as raw material to create that kitty," she said objectively. "They somehow managed to learn how to escape from this place. And learn the whereabouts of their beloved lost son and track him down."

"But they couldn't break the spell no matter what they did," I said, my eyes narrowing.

_I made my way to the last floor and went up to the penthouse. I found Dorothy sitting on one of those concrete benches, a soft furry cat in her lap. I sighed..._

_"Cats are rare creatures. In one sense you could say they're worth more than you and I. I doubt someone would abandon one. The best thing you should do is find its owner, because when you get too attached--"_

"Oh! Dorothy sensed it... She knew! He was created just like her," I said with epiphany, bringing my walk to a halt.

_Dorothy's head jerked towards me before I could finish my sentence. "When that happens you'll negotiate..."_

An ear-splitting siren interrupted my flashbacks, bringing me back to the present. I blinked and saw Angel far in front of me, taking a step back in panic as red laser sensors flashed on in response to her careless trespassing.

Trespassing.

"Uh oh!" she muttered as if she was a child who just spilled some milk.

"Hey!"

"Look's like we've been spotted," she said with too eager sarcasm. I put a hand on her shoulder, patting it.

"Right. Look's like you've pushed us in the right direction. Now, where's the lab area?"

"Not too far," she smiled.

"Let's make a break for it," I said close to her ear, unintentionally smelling the sweet scent of her perfume. I let go of her shoulder and both of us raced straight forwards. I took this time to think of a plan as we ran along the length of the winding hallway. Unfortunately, I couldn't really think of anything except to run, as sirens and the potential anxieties of an incoming deranged scientists' army kind of wanted to make you start moving. Sure enough, Angel and I had to pull to a halt. A line of three brown-uniformed men appeared in front of us-- with the obvious threat of guns.

On instinct, Angel and I simultaneously dodged the bullets, ducking on opposite sides behind pure concrete columns as they began to whiz past by. I glimpsed at her a couple of meters away from me. Our eyes met for a brief moment, then she turned away. She looked very focused, using her peripheral vision and hearing to find any clues to escape. Ah-ha. She did get a haircut since the last time I saw her. I thought it flattered her facial features, but I would never dare to give her a compliment.

"Try this," she mouthed solemnly to me as she reached by her belt to pull something out of a holster.

I raised an eyebrow, catching the caliber.

"Goes against my principles!" I yelled above the gunfire, flipping the gun dextrously into position with my one hand, then cocking it with the other. "But I don't have a choice!"

The bullets stopped for a few momentary seconds. The men had to reload or were wondering if we were dead already. I took the time to peek out from my hiding spot and fire some rounds. Instead of firing the men, I took shots at the pipe above them praying for good luck. Steaming hot water poured on the men. I could see that one of the men was pushed towards the ground due to the pressure, hit his head, and immediately passed out. When enough steam had cleared and cooled, we saw that the two men were doubled over, gasping. I ran over to the nearest one and elbowed them at the crucial spot near the neck. He fell like a potato. I turned around for the other one. But Angel already got him, similarly elbowing him on the neck. Her blonde hair and toned frame was moist from the sweat and steam. And, somehow, she still looked perfectly ready for any photo shoot.

The age-old question. Who was this girl?

I gave her a questionable look then proceeded to walk down a staircase, casually throwing her the caliber.

"So, no matter what you won't shoot people?" Angel asked incredulously.

"All part of being a gentleman," I said slyly as we descended down the stairs.


	12. Act 8, Scene 12

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Scene 12  
Angel

We arrived in another small warehouse type room. There was only one way to go-- ahead, through a beckoning silver metallic door. I pressed the button and with a hiss the door slid open, beeping. We were in a strange humming white dome-like room that had a scientific purpose I could not fathom. My eyes struggled to adjust to its brightness. The door closed automatically behind us. Roger and I looked at each other, our eyes similarly relaying our total curiosity.

I stepped forwards in wonder, in awe learning over the thin rail that prevented a nauseatingly eerie fall into the deep blue water fifty feet below. Just the thought of it made my head turn.

There was a narrow walkway in the middle of the circular room dividing each side into a semi-circle, but there were also paths around the circumference. For the most part there was no floor. The sides of the room were neatly lined with spotless white tile. The sight was particularly overwhelming and one felt very, very small.

"And what is this place? Doesn't look exactly look like a lab to me," Roger muttered with irritation. He was obviously expecting to get the beakers and the evil scientist thing over with.

I gasped exasperatedly, turning towards him in annoyance. "Well, it's just up ahead." I motioned my hand towards the other side of the room.

Men are so impatient.

BOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!

The entire room shook dangerously, including the rail I was holding onto. I immediately let go of it, and jerked back due to my surprise. My shoulder accidentally budged into Roger's chest. I gasped in shock as something rose out of the middle of the blue circle of water-- a column of smoke, fire, and debris. Most of the walkway crumbled away into the water below, including the rail.

Roger grabbed my arm and flailed me behind him so all I could see was his huge shoulders instead of the awesome creature. "Watch out!"

I grumbled, struggling to peek over his back. I saw something long reach out from the middle of the room . And then another long... tentacle appeared from beneath the water.

"My God! Is that another snake sea monster thing?" I screamed, becoming wide-eyed in fear and grabbing his arm instinctively while I stood directly next to him. I was completely losing it. My mind was still fresh with my own recent memories that happened near the sea-- and under it.

Numerous octopus-like tendrils groped around the room, pulling down walkways and their rails. It was approaching us-- quickly. All I could describe the monster with was that it was like a mass of grey blubber interfused with a horrible, ferocious giant octopus that could climb on walls and pretty much blow things to smithereens. Eugene sure used his imagination.

"Bad feelings about this exhibit! Let's stop looking and start running to the other side," Roger instructed. But it was like I had no choice anyway. He death-gripped my hand so hard I felt like it was suffocating. I was forced to run the same cheetah-like speed as him. My legs burned in effort.

We were barely running fast enough; it seemed like the doorway that had been across from us kept getting farther and farther.

Behind us the platforms became wrecked as the tentacles pulverized them in its attempts to draw near to us. Sparks flew over our bodies as the octopus made its damage. A 'limb' of the monster in a sudden loomed directly behind me. But then I saw that this tentacle was unique from all the others. In fact, I think this mass of blubber actually had a head. A head with a gigantic face on it, and horribly long foam-covered canines, pointy ears, a snout, and real fur. And something new I didn't at first notice-- claws, capable of horribly scratching and piercing anything in this room.

"What even is that thing?" I screamed. Roger, whose eyes had been previously focused on the never-encroaching doorway with determination, could not resist turning his head towards the curiosity that was literally trying to gnaw at him. This caused our sprint to slow down a little.

Not only could the octopus growl with saliva at the mouth and ruin metal structures-- it could bark like a Doberman.

"Eugene's-- watchdog!" Roger panted as we made a run for it, whirling our heads forwards, not liking what we saw. He let go of my hand and was holding onto my shoulder now besides me, his push firmly insisting me to continue onwards. My hand where his had been was warm with sweat.

The dogtopus' eyes focused on us and its mesmerizing mouth widened for the final chomp to finish our lives. Roger and I focused our hopes on the finally approaching doorway. It was just 20 meters away but the monster was incoming at a more rapid rate.

"My God, I don't think I'm going to make it!" I cried out, my body desperately trying to compete alongside Roger's. Time and time again proved that Roger was a better runner than me.

The hellish face of the werewolf octopus, the thing of nightmares, was impounded in my memory. I truly began to doubt my chances of survival at the moment. It was perhaps just useless for us to try to flee this powerful monster. Eugene created and bred this monster to protect his laboratory situated in the other end, and it had all the qualities it certainly needed to prevent strangers and negotiators from meddling with his affairs. And I had feeling that the monster at our heels could've eaten us right then and there if it wanted to. But a meal certainly does taste better when you work so hard for it.

My legs felt like I had been running for hours. My strength was beginning to fail me now. My knees felt like buckling; I was suddenly so tired...

What was this? The second, no, third time my lust for memories have led me to too-close encounters with monsters and near-death experiences? Would I survive today to get those precious memories from all of Eugene's animals?

As I quickly contemplated these things, my ears keened on to the heavy panting of Roger's breath next to me. Every time he blew an exhale I inhaled, like a rhythm. Our last breaths, perhaps. My God, how many seconds of this crazy life did I still have left? I closed my eyes, trying to muster whatever strength there was within me so I could go on and run fast, faster.

**********************  
Roger

RRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT.

The walkway shook violently and made a deafening screech as the monster took a bite of a chunk of metal. The sheer force of the attack caused Angel and I to struggle with our balance as we tried to head over to the doorway only a couple of meters ahead.

But before we could make it, the walkway's floor folded downwards like a cracker as the monster proceeded to chew and ruin the structure with its fearsome tentacles. With nothing to stand on, I was immediately flying downwards towards the deep water of the monster's lair, a critical direction which would eventually succumb to a premature death in a watery grave.

Angel's light body ended somewhat on top of me as I plummeted towards the water below. In apprehension of her peril, she instinctively flailed her arms around my neck. With my arms I secured the troublemaker close to my body; her newly cut blonde hair tickled my face, and the familiar scent of her mesmerized my nose, temporarily replacing the putrid fishy aroma of the monster. Her anxious deep eyes topped with thick black mascara weakly fluttered as she for a moment gazed at me, then they closed, and she was limp and silent; she had passed out due to her fear and the rough nature of the fall.

With one free arm, I unleashed my grapple gun. The only thing I could safely aim at was an available rail not too far from the doorway we needed to head into. Hopefully, the rail would stay for a while at that. The rope wrung around the bar several times.

Angel and I plunged into the water for a few seconds, then we swung back up.

"This fallen Angel is nothing but trouble," I said as I set her down gently at the first doorway that we entered. She would hopefully come to in an hour or so.

I spoke into my left wrist. "Norman! Come in!"

"Yes, sir. I know. I have a fix on your location," Norman said, his face appearing on the tiny screen of the watch. "It'll be about fifteen seconds."

"Excellent timing," I acknowledged to Norman as the screen flickered to indicate the longitudes and latitudes.

Meanwhile, the monster analyzed the churning water and smoking ruins. He was despondently trying to figure out where his dinner had gone. He scanned the room in curiosity, like a hunter searching for game.

When our eyes made contact, I could see that he was very pissed. The expenditure of energy and his pride made him angrier and hungrier.

"You're looking for me, I take it!" I called out to my challenger.

The monster readily leered up in a dramatic fashion and its open mouth gaped even more, bearing rows of shiny white teeth. His jaws prepared to enclose me-- until the ground rumbled violently, setting him back in surprise. Along with my confidence, a streaming wall of highly-pressured water jetted up, separating the two of us. The monster lost its balance and collapsed into the water, groaning.


	13. Act 8, Scene 13

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Act 8 Scene 13  
Angel

I awoke to very loud sounds-- sounds of an animal groaning, eerie wailing, humming machinery, rushing water. Water droplets licked my skin. My head hurt badly. My whole body was engagingly sore. I felt the ground shaking frighteningly beneath me, but that was something I had quickly became used to.

I opened my eyes, my vision at first blurry and not recognizing anything. For a second, I didn't know where the hell I was, or what in the universe happened. And then everything set in.

"Uh! The Megadeus!" I yelled in surprise. The Chromebuster rose, crushing through the floor of the dome-shaped room.

I particularly was not interested in seeing any battle sending loads of debris everywhere, so I immediately got up on my feet trying to regain my balance. I leaned on the doorframe as I coughed up the water. Fighting my feelings of weakness, I remembered what had happened many minutes go-- the entry into the museum, the monster chasing us, the metal floor giving away as it took a chomp of the pathway sending us towards the water, then darkness... I must've passed out then.

I looked at my surroundings to see what options Roger had decided to give me. Apparently, I was not on the other side, but instead at the door we first entered to get access to the white room. Hmph. Oh, well. I sure didn't want to enter that laboratory of Eugene's, considering the amounts of resistance this place offered to us. It was way too dangerous and this place was just giving me the creeps.

I took one final look at the Megadeus and the coiling sea monster, then turned around. I pressed the button near the doorframe, ran through the sliding mechanic door. The hallway was void of the unconscious men Roger and I had knocked out earlier.

The corridor was shaking, and dusts of cement fell from the ceiling. Red sirens and their bright lights were wailing against the walls. I climbed up the rope that I had descended down earlier. I ran past all of the ghostly dust-covered exhibits, my flashlight guiding me through what seemed like a maze. The pterodactyl flew like a pendulum above me, threatening to break its thin hanging strings, sensitive to the movements happening in the grounds below. The museum room shook again, but this time I knew it would be the last time. From below me, I heard an ear-splitting boom, followed by the sound of breaking glass and pottery, falling objects, collapsing exhibits and skeletons, the crackling of flames, and something like a whistling train breaking through the entire building. The mammoth bones in all its majesty, the ones I had so previously admired, had caught on fire. I barely escaped its collapsing on me. The air overwhelmed with dark smoke and a sweltering heat began to suffocate me. I began sweating like crazy.

Bracing my head, I ran through the front doorway of the museum, happy to feel the breath of fresh air against my skin and relieved to see the ruins of city buildings in front of me. I stumbled down the steps as the museum became engulfed in a fiery vestibule. I darted behind a large concrete rock amid the old ruins and regained my breath, staring at the flaming architecture, watching my dreams fade away into the hot blowing mass.

"What are they doing? They'll destroy all the memories in there!"


	14. Act 8, Scene 14

Act 8: Missing Cat

Note: Ideas aren't mine but belong to Sunrise Studios.

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Scene 14  
Roger

As Big O rose out of the ground, it had ruined the entire architecture of the museum and pushed everything out of its way, including the monster. The massive size of the Big O and its ascent from the underground tunnel system caused severe devastation to the circular cavity. The white walls of the dome-shaped room had collapsed under the flames. The first floor, much less the entire building, had pretty much been eradicated as well. All the smoke for the most part was clearing up and the water had evaporated, revealing a dusty ashy ground and the night sky.

I was thankful for this elbow room . I was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

The monster was slightly singed due to the flames, but still alive and kicking. He stood several meters from the Big O, its white pupil-less orbs glaring at me in anger as it recovered momentarily from its tough ride. The clearing smoke revealed its entire body: a long tail and strange protrusions from its back, and agile limbs like those of which belonged to a monkey. I no longer could see any tentacles. I assumed that it had adapted into its land form.

It recoiled upwards and launched itself towards the Megadeus. The monster smothered itself onto the face of the Big O. I made the Big O bend forwards quickly so it would resemble a perfect ninety degree angle. The monster loosened its grip as it smashed onto some debris. It screamed in pain, saliva flying everywhere.

The monster unleashed its tentacles in vengeance and had them wrapped around my Megadeus. The monster leaped up again and attacked the Big O's face with its teeth, scratching a bit of the metal up. Its claws fixated itself upon the back of the Big O, preventing a too easy resistance.

The force of this monster was surprisingly strong. I was amazed at its sheer magnitude and struggled to weigh control over the Big O's movement. It was a clash between two powers, not to mention a way too nice tour of the monsters highly moist pink-fleshed cavity-- tongue, teeth and all.

"I don't really like your idea of fun, so I'm breaking up with you," I said within the cockpit, mustering the strength to completely pull back both joysticks despite the added weight of the monster. The Big O raised its shoulders and grabbed the monster by its sides, trying to shake him off. This process ended up completely stretching and eventually severing the tentacles from the animal's shoulders. The monster cowered backwards, growling at the pain Roger had inflicted. In retribution, the remaining tentacles readjusted themselves into a more tighter, restraining position.

Gritting my teeth, I struggled to pull back the joystick again and prepared to finish up a final blow thanks to the big silver piston. That is, until I heard a faint but familiar voice pierce through the adrenaline of the situation.

"Stop!" a girl's voice screamed.

Dorothy?


	15. Act 8, Scene 15

Note: The Big O anime series does not belong to me. It belongs to Sunrise Studios... This is a novelisation of Act 8 Scene 15....

by Genine Silverio

*****************  
Scene 15  
Dorothy

My android spine stood straight as I yelled the fateful word with all my power possible. Whether it be a plea or command, this monosyllabic vibration felt strange against my robotic lips-- and upon me saying it, it seemed like the world became a slow-motion camera.

Perro, frame by frame, began to plummet to the ground as soon as the Big O loosened its death grip.

The flying dust settled. The actions of Roger and Perro ceased as they turned to me alike in curiosity, the heat of battle momentarily interrupted; what was this small female voice they somehow heard amongst the voluminous songs of destruction?

My eyes could not watch them battle; I had to do something. I could not tolerate Roger harming my pet. With my life, I would not allow Perro, my beloved Perro, any more injury. Every time Perro suffered a blow, something began to be detracted from me at a horrible cost. Not physically, but in a way I could not fathom, could not explain. Simply, whatever happened to Perro, I felt it, too.

I could not understand why the humans chose to inflict pain upon Perro. Perro was innocent, whether we chose to see him as a harmless kitten, a ruthless scientific experiment unfortunately bred for evil, a simple lump of tissue, or the tragic memory of a lost young child. He didn't do anything, he didn't ask for it to be this way, he had no say. He did what he could only do-- respond to what was given to him. Go merely by extinct with an attempt to survive peaceably even though the chances of success within the environment are at total odds. And yet everything is justified with his humane will to live. It wasn't a complex matter; everything as I saw it happened to be understandingly simple. Why couldn't the humans see, understand? That he wasn't just an animal, or a boy, or even a monster? Couldn't they see beyond the shell of appearances what really mattered?

I felt the barrel of the gun that Eugene held against my temples. I could feel the evil scientist breathing on my ear, his maniacal cliche giggle. But there was someone else who was taken hostage that seemed to be of more importance in his very situation.

"Roger Smith! Don't hurt him! Perro's in there and his soul is in there, too!" I screamed in a voice that did not seem like my own.

In the distance, one could hear the rumble of thunder. Perro's head cocked to the side curiously, its questioning eyes gazing at me.

I imagined a stunned Roger in his cockpit contemplating about how to react, a vengeful Angel hiding behind somewhere concerned about the hostage of memories, the smug and proud look on Eugene's face as he marveled at the conflict his amazing scientific power caused. I saw the torment, the confusion of innocent Perro's soul as he struggled to defend himself against exploitation and fathom the nonsense words and actions of the humans.

Perro slowly began to stand again, its strong tentacles all the while still attached to one of the Megadeus' shoulders. As Perro stood upwards, he dragged Roger with him. The Big O struggled not to fall due to the unbalanced movement. however, the laws of physics prevailed.

The Big O fell on its hands and knees, literally, near our toes. Eugene braced himself behind me, for there was a large plume of dust that made our way. Once the debris had cleared, he popped out once again to regain his composure, staring in awe at the Megadeus which seemed almost like it was groveling at the scientist's feet.

"If you would like to know, I make the point of incorporating any rejected properties into this chimera. And I'm sure this little android would make a fine contribution. And no one will stand in my way. I'm the ruler of all, I'm the creator! Yes!" Eugene exclaimed with egotistical laughter as he pulled me closer onto his grip with his right arm. He again dug the gun onto my temples playfully and for a few seconds stared at the Chromebuster in challenge.

"Hmph! Come on. Get up, my faithful servant!" he yelled, turning his shift expectantly to Perro who was standing near the Big O.

Perro's ears perked and his slit expressive eyes widened, sensing a command. He cocked his head in response, then turned towards the fallen Megadeus in anger.

"Devour that piece of scrap metal! Devour anything that stands in my way!" Eugene yelled, raising his left arm and firing a shot of his gun in childish eagerness.

A strange feeling consumed me. I lifted up both of my arms toward Perro, the weight of the solid metal handcuffs trivial to my abilities. Eugene gasped and pointed the gun towards my head again.

My cat turned to face me curiously, recognizing the simple gesture. Both our eyes locked and I felt my heart skip a beat. He looked very different externally compared to when I first saw him out in the rain but if there was one thing that never changed about him, one thing that made me sure that the true Perro wasn't some horrible monster, were his soulful eyes. Those dark alert green-hazel eyes that I had for so long been mesmerized at, gazed at, laughed and shared with, even the simple memory of his purrs; truly, none of that could not or would not ever be changed by science or nature.

And yet, despite all of this, something was different, something about Perro indeed from within him had inevitably changed, and it pained me to realize this. A pure matter-of-fact was in existence and this alone had the power to sever the bonds which had previously tied Perro and I close together.

"I'm so glad I rescued you because I've come to like you so much. You will never be alone again, and neither I or anyone else will ever hurt you."

"Meowwwwwwwwww!"

"Perro..." I murmured. Like I had so many times before.

"Silence!" Eugene barked in my ear, shaking me violently. He then turned to the cat. "What are you doing? Hurry up and destroy that thing will you?"

Perro's head lifted up gradually to face the Megadeus, but then he turned back to lock his solemn eyes with me.

"What's wrong? Why won't you obey me?" Eugene exclaimed in suspicion. "Hey, this is all because of her isn't it?"

His eyes widened.

"You are nothing but a worthless mechanical doll," he said desperately, stepping back to let go of me. All the while he was still pointing the gun in my direction.

Perro growled menacingly.

"Whatttttttttt!" Eugene said.

Immediately, Perro's tentacles let go of the Big O to wrap around the evil scientist.

The ground shook with every single movement of the large animal. I fell onto the concrete, watching Perro hoist him into the air, the tentacle disappearing behind the shadowed ruin of a large building. He screamed, his voice carrying into multiple octaves. One could hear shots of blind firing filled the air.

The Big O gradually stood up.

"You idiot! Stop, stop!" I heard Eugene demand to no avail. The tentacles swiftly jerked with an angry bark. Then, a couple of seconds silence, contrastingly followed by a final ear-piercing scream. The last contributing act was the sound of bones snapping in half and organs being released out onto the cold air.

Eugene's ammo-free gun seemed to defy gravity and flew a couple of meters away from my feet with a clink. My cat's tribute gift.

Feeling quite strange again, I closed my eyes as Perro's giant face neared mine at a couple of feet's distance. He was now sitting. He purred as he brought his tentacle to gently caress my face. I reveled in the touch of my loyal, loving pet. Oh, how I had missed him! I wished for this moment to last always. My android heart felt like soaring.

From the back of the injured animal's throat came a precious, large meow.

"Perro," I said, gently stroking one of his tentacles with my neck. My hands were still bound by Eugene's heavy handcuffs.

"You can come with me!" I said warmly, extending my handcuffed hands toward him.

The child's eyes lit up and we gazed at each other for a few moments. My lips formed a smile.

But then Perro's eyes quickly narrowed, then quivered, then averted away from me. His tentacles withdrew into the pores of his body. He rose up, heaved his body to the opposite direction, and began to make his way towards the museum.

"P-- Perro! You're going the wrong way!" I exclaimed, leaping forward to follow him.

Suddenly, I was halted in my tracks by an arm of the Big O.

Resuming to a standing position, I questionably looked up at the Chromebuster, imagining Roger sitting in the cockpit. My android mind lagged a few seconds to process the given circumstances. My heart sank upon realization that there was nothing he Roger and I could do. Perro, as he was, could never fully be accepted into the human world.

Each resulting footfall rumbled fainter than the last, the bright flame of the burning museum silhouetted Perro's body. I watched as my child made his agonizingly slow, sure encroachment toward Hades, a forever banishment from the living world. With every footfall my Perro would be gone from me forever. Perro, my Perro, becoming a mere amorphous shadow, a shadow amongst memories.

WE HAVE COME TO TERMS.


End file.
